"Want to go surfing?"
Reid, sounding as cheery as I was not.
"Now?" I asked, glancing outside.
Okay, so it was sunny. But the prospect of actually doing work on this madcap Thursday felt like being woken up from a drowning dream.
"No, I was thinking more like in 2022," Reid said. "Yes now, Gage. In thirty minutes, if you want. Meet me on the beach."
I paused. My profoundly shitty mood would be drastically improved by surfing. Although I didn't exactly relish being around anyone else right now, with my wound still fresh from the morning.
"You still pissed about the Lena thing?" Reid asked.
"Yeah," I said noncommittally. "But I'll see you on the beach in thirty."
* * *
I drove back to the house, picked up my board, and was on the beach quickly enough. Reid was already hitting the waves. A few minutes later, I was out there with him.
Surfing with Reid was a distraction. The waves were hollow and peeling, but with such short intervals between sets there wasn't really time for actual conversation. Definitely what I needed, even though my head kept asking the same question. Why the hell didn’t she stick around?
After our session, when we were walking back onto the beach, I saw it.
Caught in the knots of a lilac bush, a familiar-looking piece of paper.
Reid said something to me, but I ignored him as I jogged to the paper, certain it wouldn't be what I hoped it was.
"Hey, kinda looks like you," Reid said from over my shoulder.
I nodded. Sketched in skillful lines, Giselle’s portrait of me was a little ragged and smudged in places but still in one piece. God, she’s talented. I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell Reid, if anything at all.
My eyes stopped on the corner of the paper, which bore a distinctive embossed E. Where had I seen that before?
"Hell, it's been ages since I've been to Elysium," Reid said thoughtfully.
My questioning glance only made him shrug.
"You know, that fancy art shop downtown?"
Bingo. The façade of the store flashed in my mind. White Grecian-columned exterior, like it was a temple to the arts. An interior like a hippie's wet dream, with tie-dyed colors splayed everywhere. If that was where Giselle had gotten this paper from, that meant…
"Want to go there?" I asked abruptly.
Amusement taking over his face, Reid leaned on his board, which he had propped in the sand, and settled in for a good long wait as I looked at him—stone-faced.
I knew Reid well, and also what would get me off the hook with him. Clearly, this was going to require me dishing out some details.
"Some girl I met. We had a great time together and then got separated."
Reid dragged a hand through his wet hair before hoisting his board under his arm with another shrug.
"Sure, lover boy, we can go there."
Irritation sparked through me, but I followed him nonetheless. I wanted some company for this next part of my search. I wasn't sure why, other than a vague uneasiness I might benefit from some backup.
Uneasiness that I was heading into some dangerous uncharted territory…for my heart.
* * *
Elysium was just as I remembered it. From its walls and floors painted in vibrant shades down to the now-ancient owner. The last time I'd been here was probably more than ten years ago, for some project at school. I recognized the grumbly old bat from back then and she seemed mostly unchanged.
"Revealing customer information is against the law," she said with a toss of her frizzy white-haired head to my question about a girl named Giselle matching her description. As if that concoction of "herbs" I smell isn't, lady.
She aimed her red-rimmed eyes at Reid and then me before turning away to rifle under the counter.
I looked to Reid for help as he muttered, "The shit I do…"
"Ma'am." He leaned on the desk.
She bobbed her head up and cocked a brow at him impatiently. "Really nice place you've got here. Decorated it yourself?"
With a frown set so deep into her face that I wondered if it would ever come out, she nodded warily.
Reid then glanced around the shop, taking it all in with a wistful sigh. "You made all of this with your husband, didn't you?"
Miraculously, the frowning set of wrinkles on her face softened. She almost smiled. "Took us months. We almost didn't think it would be ready in time. Didn't even know whether the store would work, but here it is still thriving all these years later."
Reid rubbed the side of his jaw like that was the most fascinating thing he'd heard all week. “It’s obviously been in exceptional hands then. Kudos to you.” Then, he gestured to me. "My friend Gage here, the person he's asking about, well, they have a connection. He's not some crazy creeper, I can attest to that. He's just a guy who's looking for a girl. There was this…misfortune…where they were separated without getting each other's information. So if you had her phone number that would do him a world of good."
The woman gave me a long, hard look before tapping a finger on the mouse connected to her ancient desktop. After a beat and a pause, she said, "Unlucky for you we don't deal with phone numbers. Phone calls aren't our style." My whole body sagged in defeat. Fuck.
"But"—Old Bat Art Lady lifted her eyes upward, as if seeking guidance from above—"some people set up accounts to have things delivered directly…like Giselle Fleury, 24 Clair Creek Lane." Clearly, she'd made her decision in advance because of what she said next. "Don't thank me for the information because I didn't tell you a thing. You only overhead my mention of the details of a client's delivery. In fact, don't say anything to me unless it's to ask for the price of whatever you're buying before you go." She had game, I'd give her that much. I also now had a way to find Giselle, so I didn't even care Old Bat Art Lady was grifting me.
Reid nodded gravely.
I followed her very specific instructions. "How much for three pads of this fine sketching paper, ma'am?"
She finally cracked the beginnings of a smile when she gave me the total for my purchase.
We waited until we were outside before the congratulatory knuckle tap. Then Reid stepped back and leaned on the wall of the store, that annoying debonair-Southern-gentleman act of his in full fucking swing and asked me the question.
"So, you want to tell me why you're stuck on this girl, Gage?"
I jostled the bag holding the three sketchpads I'd just bought for Giselle and shook my head.
"No. I'm not stuck on her. It's…only that we got separated…and I just want to make sure she's okay. She hurt her foot." The truth—mostly.
Reid nodded with the air of someone who didn't believe a word I'd said but would pretend to buy it for my sake anyway. Clapping his hand on my back, he said, "I'll leave you to it then. Take care of yourself, brother."
I gave him a shoulder bump. "You too. Thanks for wooing the info out of the crazy old bat for me. I owe you one."
After he left, it gradually dawned on me that our hasty victory wasn't exactly one. I hadn't gotten Giselle's phone number as I'd hoped. I'd gotten her address, which demanded a very different commitment—and potentially different interpretation by Giselle herself. Although she had seemed reckless and easygoing in some ways, what if she thought me showing up at her place unannounced was creepy and stalkerish?
Reading the address I'd recorded on my phone, I squared my shoulders. Although the normal way of getting Giselle's number and shooting her a call or a text would have been preferable, I didn't have that option. And it wasn’t acceptable to not see her again. I felt something for her and wanted to explore what that might be. Even though I have no clue if she feels anything for me. It was either this or nothing.
Tucking my phone in my pocket, I set off for home. If worst came to worst, it would be the same as me doing nothing at all—and never seeing someone who brought unexpected light into my life again. And that feels terribly wrong.
* * *
I waited until the next morning.
It wasn't that far so I walked, mulling over my nonchalance about her to Reid, and feeling annoyed with myself. Why couldn't I have admitted that I'd had a great time with Giselle and wanted to see her again? What was the big deal?
Instinctively, I avoided answering my own question. Something told me I wouldn't like the answer. Already, the lengths I'd gone to see this French girl again was unsettling. I didn’t pursue. I didn’t put myself out unless it was for my business. So, why her?
A quick ten minutes later I was walking down Bluff Lane, grinning as I took in the pastel, low-lying structures. Of course Giselle would be staying on Rainbow Row. I should've guessed.
I'd made it to 10 Clair Creek when I saw her. Headed straight for me and looking just as beautiful as I remembered. Because the memory of her is something permanent now. She was wearing a short yellow dress instead of a blue one, but her long lovely legs looked just as gorgeous regardless of the color. I had my cock buried between those lovely legs. The frown she also wore once she recognized me didn’t retract from her beauty. Don't fuck this up. No matter what.
"Giselle."
"Gage."
Her cheeks had a sun-kissed hue.
"I am—"
"I know I—"
Speaking at the same time, we broke off, laughing.
"I'm so sorry about yesterday," she said quickly. "When I woke up, you looked so deep in sleep, I would not allow myself to disturb you. It was better for me to go quietly…I felt I'd caused you enough trouble already."
I nodded, digesting her words. They made sense, although they still weren't exactly satisfying. "I understand I guess. I wanted to see you again, and I was concerned about you leaving without telling me especially when you were hurt. I was worried about you." I looked at her foot, relieved to see my pink marshmallow bandage had been replaced with a discreet flesh-colored Band-Aid. Her toenails were now a similar pink though. Pretty feet…pretty girl. So fuckin’ pretty. "How are you?"
The corner of her lips twitched into a smile. "Such a gentleman you are. And I thank you for asking about my poor toe. It is much improved today, thanks to you."
"I'm glad it's better today. Where are you going right now?" I couldn't resist asking, even though it was clear I was taking a liberty with her she'd not granted me yet.
"Ahh, yes well, I have an important meeting with my landlord right now. I…I cannot be late."
Like a school boy virgin, I blurted, "What would you say to going on a date with me later?"
The beginnings of her smile disappeared just as quickly. She shook her head sadly without looking at me.
"Unfortunately, that may not be a good idea."
"Why not?"
"Because...I have reasons."
I searched her face for answers I'd probably never find. But man, I wanted to know her reasons…so badly. Nearby birds chattered cheerily, far-off children squealed in either joy or rage, and something about Giselle's tense stance gave me pause.
It wasn't that she didn't want me here. It was that she did.
I shifted from one foot to another, weighing my options. Pushing her was not only bad manners, but potentially stupid. It could be that my attraction to Giselle was through a fool's rose-colored glasses. But it isn't, and you fucking know it.
"So, that's a no?" I asked.
She gave her head a single shake and then bit down on her bottom lip. "But it is not a yes either."
And, just like that, she continued on her way with me itching to follow along after her.
"Thank you for checking on me, Gage," she said from over her shoulder with a sexy smile.
"My pleasure, Giselle."
It most certainly was.
Instead of feeling rejected on the walk home, I was hopeful. Maybe she hadn't agreed to see me, but she definitely hadn't told me to stay away from her, either.
And if her shyness in my presence was any indication, I figured I might have a chance with her when I showed up for our date in a few hours from now.
Giselle might not be expecting me to show up so soon, but I was going to use the shit out of my element of surprise.
Giselle
Il était l’homme le plus sensuel, le plus exaltant et le plus beau que je n'avais jamais vu, embrassé, et couché avec. Mais il ne pouvait pas être à moi. Probablement ne voulant pas être à moi.
Je voulais porter toute sa tristesse sur mes épaules. Je voulais que Gage me regarde chaque jour avec ses aveuglants yeux bleus. Je voulais ce que je ne pouvais pas obtenir.
N’oublie jamais.
Merde.
~pour vous en anglais~
He was the most sensual, exhilarating, and handsome man I’d ever seen, had ever kissed, ever slept with. But he couldn’t be mine. Probably didn’t want to be mine.
I wanted to take all of his sad onto my shoulders. I wanted to have Gage look at me with those blinding blue eyes daily. I wanted what I could not have.
Never forget.
Shit.
6
Five hours later.
On the fourth knock, she answered the door wearing a sexy garment that could've been a dress or a slip for all I knew, but she looked fucking hot in it. As I'd hoped, she also wore a very surprised look on her beautiful face.
"What are you doing here, Gage?"
"I'm here for our date, Giselle, and to bring you these." I held out the sketchpads I'd bought from Elysium. "I thought you could put them to good use."
"Thank you, how very kind." Her voice softened as she accepted the sketchpads, but then she pursed her lips, looking past me to see my convertible parked in front of her house. "And if I have plans?"
I leaned against the door frame. "I can wait."
Another one of our cheeky staring contests commenced for about a minute before a smile finally graced her face. "Fine. Give me ten minutes."
And, ten minutes later, she emerged from her house sporting the biggest sunhat I'd ever seen. As she settled in the Jag next to me, I took in her headwear's impressive contours. "At least we'll be covered, rain or shine."
With a giggle, Giselle held up her chin at a tilt. "We will see about that." As I pulled onto the road I could feel her stare. "Do I want to know how you got my address, Gage?"
I turned down the radio—Every Woman by The Doors—so I could hear and answer her better. "The art shop," I admitted. "But don't get pissed at the owner. My friend Reid is a real wheeler-dealer."
"Hmm," she said with a brisk nod. "And do I get to find out what exactly our date is for?"
I grinned.
I hadn't even had time to say what we were doing. This whole experience of her—her reaction to me showing up at her doorstep, the incredible dress she had on, the fact she'd readily agreed to come with me, had thrown my whole plan into disarray. My original idea had been to make my pitch at her door: a drive to Magnolia Gardens in my convertible for a picnic.
"How long have you been here again?" I asked.
She tucked a section of flickering hair behind her ear. "Not very polite to answer a question with a question, you know, but…for months now."
"So you've probably heard of Magnolia Gardens then?"
She visibly brightened. "Really?"
I winked before reaching over to tug on her hat. "You're wearing just the attire for it too. We won't need to find a tree to sit under."
Giggling, she turned away, happily admiring the landscape.
Once we were outside of the city and the traffic cleared to basically empty, I opened up the Jag for some real speed. As my foot dug into the gas, the wind picked up. So much so that it threatened to rip off her straw hat completely. Reaching over, I carefully removed it and tucked it under her legs. She smiled at me in thanks.
Feeling the full force of the breeze, she threw her head back and let out a laugh at the sea-blue sky above. "Your car, it's so—"
As the wind whipped her hair behind her, she exhaled on a sigh, "Fantastique."
On
ce again, the sound of her speaking to me in her native French did something to my insides. "So my car is "fantastique", huh? I'm guessing that means—"
"Silver." Giselle offered helpfully.
For half a second I frowned before seeing her head fall back in that carefree laughter. I shook my head at her. Every damn time with her.
"I could not help it." She smiled wide, showcasing a slight space in between her two front teeth, and then sighed dramatically. "Who am I kidding? I'm not sorry, Gage. Your gullibility is too cute."
I kept my eyes on the road, unsure how I was supposed to manage it after that comment sailed off her lovely lips, but luckily we were almost to the gardens. Everything about Giselle had me on full alert and aware of our…connection. Whether either of us could admit there was a connection was pointless. Because it was definitely present in every exchange between us, spoken or otherwise. The staring contests, the smiles, the laughs, the teasing, the gentle scolding—all part of what pieced us together. It was so unexpected...and refreshing.
I tried paying for both of us once we made our way inside, but Giselle managed to sneak her own admission when I wasn't looking.
"Is that how they do things in France?" I asked, frowning at her insolent little smirk because she'd messed with my plans. "The women pay for everything?"
"Maybe."
My hand closed around her waist as I whispered in her ear, "Don't make me pick you up and carry you there myself as punishment."
She gave me a look that was a little bit teasing and a little bit defiant—and really fucking sexy. "And if I scream and shout for police?"
"I don't know about that. Police here in America aren't the same as in France."
She laughed. "That I do not doubt."
Growing up in Charleston, I'd been to the Gardens at least twenty times over the years, but with Giselle it felt new to me. She had a knack for pointing out the beauty of our natural surroundings—flower, tree, and sky alike—in a way that made me see it with more color. More…vitality.
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